Last night, during our group reflection, I heard this comment and it was echoed by everyone in the room. And these women were some of the most dedicated members of my class last semester - consistently prepared, thoughtful responses to the reading, original ideas presented. "I loved the class, but I am finally understanding everything we learned. I can put the pieces together better now; I can tell someone about what border culture means." Another woman added, "I can't imagine how I learned anything any other way."
An experiential learning trip could be written off as a fun diversion. A trip where students are required to pay a very small portion of their costs might be a lark, easily forgotten, unconnected to "real," scholarly learning. Yet this trip is cementing the learning that took place all semester in profound ways. All of the participants on the trip reference knowledge gained in classes (and not just my classes) in each discussion. They talk about how topics have been made real by seeing the people and places we have read about. Caiti said, "How did I ever think I could learn about different cultures without actually going and meeting the people?"
That sentiment, of course, is a major motivator for anthropologists. Indeed, it was the impetus for anthropology as a discipline. We define ourselves through field work, not simply accounts from others nor controlled experiments. We go to where people live and we live and work in those same places. We learn culture by doing culture. Participant observation is the cornerstone of cultural anthropology's methods. I think my students would argue that they learn from classes (and their use of information from those classes backs that claim up), but these experiences resonate with them in a different way.
Yesterday, as we walked around Chicano Park in San Diego, we were joined by Salvador "Queso" Torres, who is sometimes called "the architect of the dream" of the murals that adorn the massive pylons of the freeway over the park. After chatting with Robert Alvarez and I for a few minutes, he declared,"I'm going to give you a tour. Come with me." His coveralls spattered with paint from his current mural project, brushes poking out of his pocket, he led our group from one panel to the next. He explained the history of the movement, the symbolism of the murals, stories of the artists, and the heroes of the Chicano movement. He showed us where his childhood home had stood, where he dreamed of becoming an artist as a boy, how the murals might inspire children to dream of what they could become, to believe that they could achieve those dreams. The meeting was entirely unplanned, made possible by his long association with Robert Alvarez, who also grew up with family in the neighborhood.
Looking at those beautiful murals in a book would teach you so much. Hearing about them from someone who had visited would add another dimension. Visiting the park alone, gazing on them in all their color and height could overwhelm you. But talking with the artist who conceived of them, painted them, restored and guarded them - that is a lesson you won't soon forget.
We spend time each night together reflecting on the day. We learn so much from each other too, as every individual picks out unique details and responds to different events. Those conversations make me agree: I loved the class, but . . .
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